


Striking Matches, Getting Burnt

by piss_soda



Series: Smoke and Mirrors [3]
Category: Unus Annus - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Sexual Assault, Swearing, will add more tags as the story updates !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piss_soda/pseuds/piss_soda
Summary: Ethan doesn't  like Mark, sometimes. He gets loud and aggressive enough that Ethan finds himself flinching whenever he gets too close (not that the young boy would ever admit that to anything but the 3AM silence of his room).But it's fine. He just needs to get used to the high-pressure work environment. Toughen up a little.Mark knows what he's doing. Ethan trusts him.- A collection of oneshots that lead up to Smoke and Mirrors.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Series: Smoke and Mirrors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969813
Comments: 49
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to start this by saying I do not think mark and ethan are like this At All, and I respect them and their relationship. I know mark was in an abusive relationship in the past, and that probably makes me a shitstain for writing this, but here it is anyway.
> 
> Also, these won't be in chronological order! They're kind of scattered around at the moment.
> 
> Enjoy !

"Mark." Ethan said over the din, nudging the larger man with his elbow. "I need to talk to you." 

His smile was tight when he turned around, and while it would've looked real to anyone else, Ethan saw how it was tight around the edges, how it didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew he had fucked up. 

"Not now, Ethan. I'm busy." His voice had a hard edge to it - well-practiced to seem light and innocent to strangers, but threatening to someone who knew what it truly meant. _Shut up,_ the sentence screamed, _shut up or you'll regret it._

Biting his lip, he tried again. This was important - someone was spiking drinks at the party - it was far more pressing than whoever Mark was talking to. Hopefully the older man would understand. "I know, but someone -" 

Finally, Mark turned away from who he was talking to to look at Ethan directly. _Oh, shit._ He _never_ looked at him unless he had crossed a line. "I _said_ not. Now. We'll talk later," he hissed, turning away from the young boy again. Fuck.

Breathing out harshly, Ethan stumbled away from the finished conversation, looking to find someone else to help him. If Mark wanted his own party to be ruined, then so be it. 

Who did he think he was, anyway? Shutting Ethan down like that while he treated the other guest like a celebrity? Don't get him wrong, he knew he was just Mark's employee - and that Mark needed to be a little tough with him - but. Ouch. Was he really that unimportant? Someone could get _hurt_ \- did Ethan really matter that little? 

If Mark - kind, caring Mark, who everyone _loved_ \- couldn't spare him a few seconds, then... maybe there was a reason for that. 

Another hour passed, and nothing much happened. He mingled with the other guests, chatting amiably about how he liked his job, what the weather was like, this and that. It was... nice, he supposed. A little more friendly, more welcoming than the work parties he had attended in the past, at least. Unfortunately the person who spiked the punch was never caught, but such is life he supposed. 

His phone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, careful not to spill his drink. 

_Mark: meet me in the hallway by the first bathroom. now._

Sounded a little weird, but whatever. Maybe this is what Mark meant by talking to him later? Shrugging, Ethan complied, knowing he didn't have much of a choice, and walked over to the shadowed part of the house. 

Dimly, he noted how alone they'd be. It was probably fine, though. 

"There you are. Finally." Mark stepped away from the wall and closer to Ethan. He was far too close for the younger's comfort, but he bit his tongue. Mark knew what he was doing - he was the boss. _Ethan's_ boss. You just didn't complain about your boss. 

Confused, the smaller boy tilted his head. "I only took a minute, what do you -" A rough hand grabbed his face, and he shut up immediately. 

_What the fuck?_

"When I tell you to do something, I expect you to _do it._ " Mark hissed. His eyes were dark with something - anger? No, fury, maybe. 

Fuck, did he really mess up that badly? 

Before he could think about the consequences, Ethan threw the hand off him, stumbling back to the other wall. "What the fuck are you doing?" He whimpered, putting his hands up in some sort of measly shield. There still wasn't enough space between them, especially after what he had just done. 

What was he thinking?

Instead of replying, Mark just moved forward again, clamping a hand over his mouth this time. Taking advantage of how the younger froze in fear, he quickly moved behind Ethan, wrapping his free hand around his torso to keep him still. "Shut the fuck up. We don't want anyone to hear you, do we? We don't want anyone to know that I had to scold you like a _child_ \- how _embarrassing_." 

Panicking, Ethan only struggled harder, thrashing against Mark's hold. He absolutely _did_ want someone to hear him, thank you very much.

"I'm serious. Stop. It." Mark growled. His hold on the smaller boy got tighter, and his hand moved from his chest to his waist. Fingers centimeters away from his waistband. "You need to learn to not interrupt me." 

Ethan shook his head, but complied anyway. Mark could get... explosive, when he was angry. Especially when the two of them were alone. He didn't want to possibly anger the man in such a compromising position.

Plus... He had interrupted earlier. After being told to stop. Maybe Mark was right - maybe he needed to be taught a lesson if words weren't working. 

Finally, he went limp, sagging against Mark's arms. His boss was right, he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention - that would be embarrassing. 

"Good boy," Mark murmured, rubbing his hand over Ethan's stomach. He tried to ignore how dehumanizing it felt, and leaned back against his chest. Slowly, the older man removed his hand from Ethan's mouth, chuckling darkly when he didn't say a word. "Now that you've calmed down, I have something to tell you." 

Still stuck with his back against Mark's chest, he just focused on the wall, waiting for him to continue. He knew he shouldn't talk when he's not supposed to - especially right now. 

A hand ghosted along his inner thigh, and Ethan jerked harshly at the intrusion. A rough hand clamped back over his mouth, and Mark tsked from behind him. "You look so cute like that - struggling. All for me." 

That... had some really gross implications. 

Keeping his thoughts to himself (it wasn't like he could do much else, anyway), Ethan just pulled at Mark's arm, wincing in pain when the older man held him harder. "Fucking - stop it. Stop." The hand against his mouth was really starting to _hurt_ , so he reluctantly relaxed again, suppressing the flinch that came when Mark moved his hand back to his thigh. "There, that's not so hard, is it?" 

Not trusting himself to not say something he'd regret, the younger boy just shook his head. The hand moved higher, and he bit his lip to stop from whimpering pathetically. 

"You're so small under me - so helpless." Mark - his _boss_ \- mused. "I could do anything I wanted, and you couldn't do a thing." 

Tears welled in Ethan's eyes - hot and prickly and blurring his vision when he _really_ needed to see - and he let out a small sniffle. Mark was _right_ \- he couldn't do anything. They were alone in a shady hallway in the man's own house. No one would be coming for him. Fuck.

After a minute of tight hands pinning him in place - touching places not even his _mom_ had touched - and hot breath against his ear, the larger man finally let go. "You can't tell anyone about this," he murmured, staring intensely at Ethan. "Everyone here is _my_ friend - they'll just take my side." 

Not knowing what else to say, the younger boy just nodded. He was probably right, anyway. They'd all agree that he deserved it - that he needed to be punished for speaking out of turn. 

"Stay here for a couple minutes. Don't want any suspicion." Mark said, raking his eyes over Ethan's body. After a beat, he sighed, and left the hallway. 

Ethan just slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor. He was supposed to feel flattered now, right? Mark - the man everyone loved, his boss, his _idol_ \- had just... 

What, touched him? Flirted with him? Confessed? 

So why did he feel - bad? 

He shouldn't, he decided, standing up again. He _should_ feel flattered, and grateful, and happy about this. Wiping the tear stains from his cheeks, Ethan quickly stood up, making his way out to the rest of the party. 

"There you are!" Kathryn called, smiling brightly at him. "We've been looking for you!" 

"Probably got lost, the dumbass," Mark countered. His voice seemed teasing to others, but the look the older man gave him told him he meant it. 

"Lay off, he's just a kid!" She laughed, elbowing Mark in the ribs. Lucky - if _Ethan_ ever did that he'd be lucky to just get yelled at. Then again, Kathryn was better than him. 

"I'd hardly call seventeen a kid," Mark joked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. The touch felt like it was smothering him - cutting off his air supply and leaving him burning from the inside out. The younger boy just smiled instead of voicing any of that, though. 

"That's -" Kathryn paused, crinkling her eyes in amused confusion - "literally a kid. He's a kid." Mark's hand tightened on his shoulder, and he cleared his throat. 

"I don't know, I've done some pretty grown-up stuff, Kat." Ethan joked, trying hard to keep his voice light and teasing. It was hard with the lump in his throat, but when Mark's grip loosened he knew he'd done well. "Moved out here, after all. With Mark's help of course," he quickly added, looking up at the older man with doe eyes. The hand on his shoulder started rubbing small, soothing circles, and he instinctively relaxed into the touch. "That has to count for something." 

Her eyes briefly flickered to Mark's hand on her shoulder, but Kathryn didn't comment on it. Part of him died a little, seeing that. He wanted her to notice, to pull him away and keep him safe. But Mark's grip tightened yet again, and he resigned himself to his fate. "Fair point," she laughed, shaking her head. "Still, don't get ahead of yourself. You have plenty of time left to enjoy." 

"And we'll be right here with you," Mark assured. To Ethan, though, it sounded like more of a threat, and with how well he knew the larger man, he knew it was. 

"Yeah," he murmured, knowing his smile didn't quite reach his eyes and knowing Mark would berate him for it later. "Yeah, can't wait." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Look, this is for the best. You don't understand it now, but you _will!_ " Mark's cheery voice echoed in his head, distracting him from the burning in his cheek. 

He dabbed the beauty blender harder on his skin - too hard, in Ethan's opinion, but what did he know? - trying to cover up the bright red cut and resulting bruise. At least he was helping him cover it up this time. 

That had to count for something, right?

Unsatisfied with the silence, Mark gently grabbed the younger boy's chin, tilting it up to look at him. "Ethan," he cooed, pouting slightly, "I promise, I'm doing this because I love you. I want you to be happy and successful!" the fingers left his jaw, and Ethan tried not to let relief show on his face. Instead of replying, he just grabbed his boyfriend's hand limply in his own. A silent reassurance, even if he really didn't feel like reassuring the man. 

Mark sighed, like _he_ was the one being hurt, and set down the makeup. "I think that looks good - why don't you check in the mirror and see, hm?" 

Slowly, Ethan let himself turn around. He hated to see himself now - hated everything about how he looked, how he had simultaneously deteriorated and became better-looking in his time with Mark. Most of all, he hated the aftermath of Mark's anger on his face, and how easily it was hidden afterwards. 

The cut wasn't visible. The concealer looked odd against his skin, but he doubted anyone would be paying enough attention to notice it. If they did, he could just say he needed to cover up some acne. It was always so easy to hide. 

Maybe that meant it wasn't that bad? Surely if something _truly_ fucked up were happening he couldn't hide it that easily. 

"I can't see anything," he mumbled. Mark sent him a warning glance through the mirror, and he repeated himself louder, properly enunciating each word. 

A pleased smile graced the older man's face, and Ethan let himself be happy, too. 

"Let's go out there, yeah? Got a video to film." There was something hard in his voice - a warning, if Ethan knew him well enough, and the younger boy nodded to show he had caught on. 

"Ah, there you two are!" Tyler called out from the table as they walked into the room. He had the game they were playing already set up, with Ethan in the middle and Mark on the right, squishing him between the two _very_ intimidating men. Fun.

Mark smiled back at him, flopping into his chair. "Yeah, thanks for setting up! Sorry, we got a little held up." He looked at Ethan expectantly, and the smaller boy gently sat in his own, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. 

Tyler waggled his eyebrows at that, grinning deviously. "Held up? Together?" 

"Ew, no! He's, like, twelve." The table shook as Mark pushed away from it, and Ethan watched the items precariously stacked in front of him slide down. He hated how often Mark would do that - shower him in affection in private but act disgusted with him in public. Was he truly that horrendous?

It wasn't a problem with his age, anyway. If _Markiplier_ would do it, then it had to be fine. Right?

With a confidence he did not normally possess, Ethan piped up. "What's wrong with that?" 

"Uh... you're seventeen." Tyler shot him an incredulous look, and when he didn't respond, the older man continued, "Mark's _twenty-four_ ," as if that explained the meaning of life.

Ethan opened his mouth again, but Mark quickly cut him off. "That's illegal," he hissed, "we couldn't fuck because it's illegal." The intensity in his boyfriend's gaze made fear pool in his gut, and he shifted slightly away. Obviously it was something he wasn't supposed to comment on, and Ethan filed that away for later. He didn't want to aggravate him if he could help it, after all.

"Oh. Yeah." 

Tyler gave them a weird look, but at Mark's smile continued on. Ethan wondered, sometimes, how others couldn't read the other man as well as he could. Maybe because they didn't have to.

It was hours later when they were packing up that Tyler brought up the conversation again. "Did you... really ask what was wrong with you and Mark dating?" 

Ethan's head shot up, and he fumbled with the camera, to the annoyance of Mark. "I - I mean, _yeah_ , but -" 

"He just has a fanboy crush on me," Mark cut in. "Too bad I'm too good for him." His voice wasn't joking like it would normally be, and Ethan mentally ran through a checklist of how he's going to calm him down later. If he sounded _this_ pissed - enough to show it in front of a _friend_ , he was going to have to do some serious groveling.

The camera case clattered shut as Tyler dropped it, but Mark didn't even so much as give it a second glance. Lucky. "Ouch, that's harsh. He's just a kid." 

Mark just smiled at that, elbowing Ethan harshly in the side. Somehow, he managed to keep the pain from showing on his face. "Needs to learn sometime, don't you, Ethan?" 

Knowing the answer, the younger boy nodded, ducking his head to avoid Tyler's concerned gaze. "Yeah, sorry. Just a little stupid, you know." 

"Oh, trust us, we do." 

"Hey!" Tyler walked over to face Mark, and Ethan could already tell he was going to need to use more concealer tomorrow. Fuck, why did people always have to push and pry where they obviously weren't invited? This was his and Mark's shit - _not_ Tyler's. Now _Ethan_ would have to pay for it. He glared at the other man half-heartedly, though he doubted he could see it with how intensely he was staring at Mark. "That's not cool at _all_ \- what's up with you?" 

"Chill out, I'm just teasing." Mark turned to him, and something dangerous danced in his eyes. Ethan shivered. "You don't mind, right?" 

Tyler looked at him, then, and he was so _concerned_ that Ethan almost broke, but Mark moved imperceptibly closer to him and he flinched away. He was abruptly reminded that there was no way he was ever going to talk about this - especially if it could get his boyfriend thrown in jail, and any thought of snitching left his mind. "N-no, yeah! It's fine! We're just joking around, Ty! In our own little way." 

The other man nodded, moving away from Mark, but Ethan knew he didn't mean it. He was easy to read - just like his boyfriend, and the way he kept looking over at them was a dead giveaway. 

His suspicions were confirmed when the older man walked up to him later, after Mark had jumped in the shower. 

"Hey... I - I know you said he was just teasing earlier, but - y'know, if it's not, I'm here for you." Tyler shifted his weight from one foot to the other - an uncharacteristically nervous habit - and it set Ethan on edge. Why was he asking so many questions? What did he think? What did he _know_?

The shower clicked off, and he knew they only had a few minutes, so Ethan did what Ethan does best and _lied._ "Oh no, it's fine! I promise, it's all for fun." 

"Okay... Then what was the real reason you asked, earlier? About - dating Mark." 

His face flushes in shame, and he _really_ hopes Tyler just takes it as embarrassment about his "crush." It's the easiest lie right now, even if he doesn't want people to think he's just a stupid kid. 

Ethan wasn't a stupid kid. He had somehow gotten the attention of _Mark_ , even if it was just so that the man could fix him. He had to be doing something right. 

"Oh, Mark pretty much pinned the nail on the head..." Ethan chuckled awkwardly, playing it up when he saw the tell-tale signs of disbelief emanating from Tyler. "Just a stupid crush." The words felt weird in his throat - he knew it was more than a crush, of course, but Tyler couldn't know that. 

"Uh, if you're sure." The older man rubbed a hand on his neck, looking around. Mark still hadn't come in the room yet, which was weird, but Ethan wouldn't question him. "It happens to all of us, I guess? Just - if he makes a move, let me know, yeah? I know it sounds good, but a relationship with someone his age is... _bad_." 

"Why?" The question was out before he could stop it, and he winced at himself. God, he really hoped Mark wasn't listening. "I mean - I'm seventeen, that's like, basically an adult?" 

"I - okay one, no, you're not an adult, Ethan." The younger boy almost rolled his eyes at that, but managed to stop himself just in time. A small sense of pride welled within him - he had managed to remember one of Mark's rules! He was getting better! Nevermind the fact he was probably breaking a hundred by having this conversation. "Two, there's a lot of room for manipulation, I guess. A kind of power dynamic? It's just unhealthy all around."

"There aren't power dynamics in every relationship?" The question tumbled out of him for the nth time that day, and Ethan winced internally. He was going to need to ask Mark to teach him again, and he wasn't looking forward to that. 

Again, Tyler paused, looking at him like he grew two heads. It made Ethan uncomfortable, and he shifted under his gaze. "No. There aren't. Are you - are you in a relationship where there's power dynamics? Is that what this is about?" 

"No! I was just - curious." Before Tyler could pry, Mark swooped in and put his arm around Ethan. 

"C'mon man, stop pushing the kid. He's just embarrassed." His skin was still damp and warm from the shower, and Ethan _almost_ leaned into it before Tyler glared - even more than he normally did - and he remembered where he was. "Didn't you say you had that friend to hangout with earlier?" 

They all knew it was a (barely) polite dismissal. There was no friend, and Tyler had planned to stay the rest of the day. 

Tyler stared at them, long and hard, eyes flicking back and forth from their faces to the arm Mark had slung around Ethan, until he finally backed down. "Yeah, I remember mentioning that. I better leave now if I want to get there on time," he lies. Ethan bites his lip at the tone - it's cold, and distrustful. Like Mark sounded whenever he wanted to look through his phone. "Bye, Ethan." 

His boyfriend's hand tightened around his shoulder, and he looked away from the other man. It hurt to ignore him, but he knew Mark could hurt so much _worse._

Finally, after a few minutes of awkward shuffling and avoiding eye-contact, the front door clicked shut, and Ethan was left alone with the man.

"Why was he asking you about power dynamics, Ethan?" The sentence hung in the air for a second, instantly turning the tense atmosphere into something dangerous. "Answer me." 

He swallowed before he answered, carefully looking at the picture frame above the couch. Looking at Mark wasn't an option - Ethan knew his gaze would be too fiery, too intense, burning him from the inside out. "He was asking about earlier. Telling me that... We couldn't be together because there'd be - y'know." 

"He's wrong." The grip on his shoulder loosened, and Mark's fingers trailed almost lovingly up and down his arm. "This isn't _bad_ \- I'm helping you." 

"You're helping me," Ethan echoed. "Thank you." 

The hand traveled to his waist, and he could practically hear Mark's words before he spoke them. "Why don't you show me your thanks?" 

He didn't want to. Everything hurt. The cut on his cheek burned as Mark pet it, and the bruises on his knees and thighs from "showing his thanks" countless times before ached incessantly. But he needed to.

"Good boy," the older man murmured as he lowered himself to the floor. Ethan wanted to cry, but he knew if he did he couldn't do what Mark wanted of him, and that was so much _worse_. 

Besides, he deserved this. Mark could've been _ruined_ because of his stupid mistake, and the man was only trying to help. How was that fair? Ethan needed to make it up somehow. 

A hand tightened in his hair as he pulled down the older man's waistband, and he bit his lip to hide the whimper of pain in his throat. "Whore," Mark hissed, tightening his hold more. "You get on your knees so easily for me, don't you?" 

Ethan did. 

He hated himself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Am Having A Breakdown Haha


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little explanation for the whole "Tyler Thing"

"Aw, you look so cute like this," Mark whispered. Ethan couldn't see his face very well through the blur of tears, but he imagined the older man was smiling, and that was enough. "Here, lay down a little." 

They were half-sitting on the bed, Ethan's back leaning against his boyfriend's chest, legs open just wide enough to allow for his hand, and Ethan couldn't tell how he felt about it.

On one hand, it was supposed to be a reward. It was supposed to be Mark treating him for behaving so well at his meeting, letting him relax a little for just one night, not needing to worry about making the other man mad. But on the other, it felt _wrong_. He hated the feeling of Mark's hand touching there, of all places, and he hated the stupid cheery voice he put on because Ethan _knew_ it was a trap. 

"Uh - this is a reward, right?" he asked, turning his head slightly to look at Mark. "Can I choose what it is?" 

The hand stopped, and Ethan shivered. 

"Excuse me? Who's giving you the reward, Ethan?" A burning pain laced up his thigh as Mark's nails dug into it, and he bit his lip hard to keep everything in. "Would you slap your mother for giving you steak instead of lobster?" 

Well... Mark had a point. He wouldn't slap his mother. 

Slowly, he shook his head, wincing as a tear slipped down his cheek. Mark seemed to appreciate the answer, though, because his hand loosened and went back to what it was doing before. 

Ethan almost preferred the nails. 

"Good boy," Mark hummed, watching as the smaller boy squirmed underneath him, "keep this up and I won't have to punish you." 

Deciding not to justify that with an answer, Ethan just let his head fall back against Mark's collarbone, letting whatever this was happen.

It seemed like ages before either of them spoke again. The time on the clock is definitely different, but Ethan doesn't have enough energy to try and read it, so he doesn't know _how_ different. 

Mark must be getting bored, because when he shifts it's met with a bruising grip on his upper arm and a small growl. Ethan gets the message. 

Somewhere in the house, the front door clicks open. Tyler's footprints echo around the empty living room, and Ethan's not quite sure _why_ or _how_ he knows this, but he doesn't question it much. They were supposed to film that day, after all - it wasn't that weird that he had arrived early. He looked at Mark to see if he had noticed, but the man was too focused on his "reward," and probably couldn't hear over the noises he was making anyway. 

So, he had a choice.

He could tell Mark... or he could wait for the older man to find out. 

A small, vindictive part of him told him to keep quiet, and somehow, someway, he forgot everything about how awful it would be for Mark if this got out and looked away from the door. 

The footsteps got closer, and something about the rising adrenaline and anticipation in his chest made everything feel like it was _too much_. He tried to shift away from Mark's touch, but the older man held him tightly. His skin _burned_. 

"Stop," Ethan whined. "Please, stop. Mark, it hurts." 

The slap he received seemed louder, somehow, and he whimpered in pain. "I don't care that it hurts, baby. You wanted this, remember?" 

The footsteps grew closer. 

"No I didn't! Stop, please, it hurts so much, just stop! We can do this later, I just -!" A hand clamped over his mouth. 

"Shut the fuck up, Ethan. _You wanted this._ "

The door opened then, and filled with a cocktail of fear, shock, and adrenaline, Ethan used the sudden interruption to try and rip himself from Mark's arms. Of course, the other man wouldn't let him go, and grabbed him roughly around his stomach, pinning his arms to his side. Tyler's eyes just widened to the size of dinner plates as he watched the scene unfold. 

"What the fuck." 

"It's not what it looks like!" Mark babbled, trying his hardest to pull on his signature grin. Ethan had the feeling that it fell short, though, judging by the darkening anger in Tyler's eyes. 

"Really? Because it looks like you have your hands down a fucking _child's_ pants!" As much as he tried not to, Ethan couldn't help but flinch at the outburst. Tyler's eyes flickered over to him, and he lowered his voice. "And, if I heard you correctly, you told him to 'shut the fuck up' when he asked you to stop." 

Knowing he was beat, Mark dropped his persona and tossed Ethan to the other side of the bed. "He was being annoying, anyway. Listen, you're going to come with me into the other room and we're going to talk about this, yeah?" 

Ethan was so used to following whatever Mark said that he didn't even realize rejecting him was an option until Tyler replied: "What the fuck? No way." 

"Tyler, so help me god if you don't follow me into the hallway _right now_ I will fucking kill him." 

Of course he was being used as bait. Ethan wasn't even surprised at this point. 

He probably deserved it for letting Tyler in, anyway. 

After a moment of hesitation, the taller man reluctantly stepped aside, letting Mark through the doorway. Ethan couldn't blame him - Mark didn't bluff often. 

He sat there for what felt like hours, occasionally hearing phrases like "he's mine," and "I'll fucking kill him." If he was being honest, he wasn't very shocked. These were thing he heard often. 

Finally, the front door clicked shut, and Mark re-entered the room, alone. 

Instead of the onslaught Ethan was expecting, the larger man just sat back down on the bed and pulled him into his side. "It's okay," he whispered. "Tyler can't hurt us now." For some reason, the younger boy didn't believe a word he said. 

The next morning, Ethan's twitter feed was filled with bullshit news stories about YouTube's newest scandal: Markiplier heroically stopping Tyler Scheid from ruining his "childhood innocence." 

Tyler was never going to get a job again, and it was all Ethan's fault. 

He should've warned Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if I made it clear enough, so at the end, Mark basically threatens Tyler with Ethan's safety (like "if you don't leave things will get so much worse for Ethan"), so of course the dude leaves. the next day, to cover his ass Mark makes up a bullshit story about him rescuing Ethan from Tyler, who was (according to mark) flirting with the kid. no one wants to associate with a pedo (even if there's no evidence and no actual legal case against him), so Tyler's pretty much ruined. 
> 
> Also thanks for all your sweet comments about my breakdown lmaooo   
> they're really appreciated! even tho they were Very unexpected sjdh


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh. tw for Heavy depictions/talk of rape and a spicy dose of dissociation

Ethan woke up with a start, blearily blinking into the dark room. Something - someone? - was biting at his neck, and he instinctively pushed back at their shoulder. "Wait - what - I don't want... Stop..." Despite his protests, the person, who Ethan could see now was Mark, just pushed forward, biting down harshly on his collarbone. "Fuck!"

"Shh, it's okay. Just settle down." The man's low voice was meant to seem calming but Ethan could only equate it with the explosive spells of anger and long nights of crying, and he pushed back harder. 

His limbs were still weak from sleep - shaky from the lack of circulation in an unconventional sleeping position, and his feeble punches did nothing to stop Mark from pulling at his shirt. "Get off - what are you doing?" 

"Fucking - stop it! You belong to _me_ \- you _owe_ me, or have you forgotten?" A sharp tug to his hair had Ethan yelping, and when he brought his hands up to grab at the hand doing the pulling Mark pinned them against the headboard. "Stop acting like a fucking moron and it won't hurt." 

Knowing better than to argue, Ethan stopped fighting (though that could be attributed to lack of strength, too), and slumped against the once-warm comforter. At least it was in a bed this time. 

"Good boy," Mark purred, and reached down to pull off his pants. 

Ethan simply stopped existing. 

The next morning he awoke (again) to find that Mark had gone back to his house, leaving Ethan alone with the silence. It took all of his willpower to not burn the pajama set (he was running so low on acceptable clothes) or breakdown completely (Kathryn was supposed to come home later that day, and he didn't want her to see any possible smashed belongings), but he got through the rest of the morning incident-free. 

He felt like he had died, sure, but what did that matter as long as no one caught on and Mark was happy? Ethan wasn't truly a person, anyway - he existed to be helpful for others. It was his only skill, after all. Feelings were a luxury he couldn't afford. 

That afternoon was when it went to shit. 

Kathryn returned, as she said she would, but with several grocery bags and a few hours before her previous ETA. 

Ethan was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring listlessly at the flaking drywall he needed to fix and the soupy ice cream he needed to eat. 

These two instances did not mix well. 

"Aw, shit, is it an ice cream sort of day?" His roommate called from the kitchen, peering over the counter and into his bowl. When she received no response, she tsked sympathetically, and opened the freezer. "Oh. It really is an ice cream sort of day." 

Ethan dimly noted that she was referring to the two missing cartons of vanilla ice cream - both of which were sitting painfully in his stomach (he had burned the calories off that morning, he deserved it). He stayed silent. 

Kathryn just hummed at that, gaze lingering on him a moment longer than it should have, and moved to put away the rest of the items that needed to go into the fridge. 

"You know, you can talk about it with me. I'm here for you." The disdain and disbelief must've shown on his face, because she set down the Cheeze-its she was holding and scurried over to the chair next to his. "I'm serious! We're friends - I've got you." 

He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when he realized there was nothing _to_ say. He and his boyfriend had sex. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less - just plain old sex.

Finally, he settled on a gentle dismissal. She had groceries to put away, after all, he couldn't keep her from that - not for him. "Thanks. There's nothing wrong, though, I'm just a fatass." 

Kathryn clearly didn't get the joke, because she rested a gentle hand on his arm and gave him that _look_. The _I pity you because you're clearly fucked up, and I want to seem sympathetic because I have to but you've clearly lost your marbles_ look. Her touch on his arm burned, and he shifted away before she could melt his skin off. 

"You're not a fatass! Don't you dare say that. Everyone indulges in a little ice cream now and then." Ethan shrugged, and Kathryn followed his gaze to the spotty wall. "I know there's something more. C'mon, tell me what's up." 

"Nothing's up." 

"Ethan." 

Her voice was completely different. Nowhere _near_ the same register as Mark's. But her tone set him off - all disappointed and frustrated, like Mark would get right before he had to teach him a lesson - and Ethan shoved away from the table. 

Small droplets of melted ice cream splashed across the table, but Ethan was already off to his room. He'd have to clean double that later - to make up for not only spilling it, but drawing Kathryn away from her day, and then being rude enough to walk out on her, leaving her with a mess _she_ was probably going to clean. But that didn't matter right then.

God he was such a fucking asshole. 

Avoiding the bedroom, Ethan sought asylum in the hallway bathroom, slumping against the porcelain tile and taking a shuddering breath in. His arm twisted painfully as he reached up to unlock the door, but it was fine. He'd felt worse. 

Especially that morning. 

_Fuck_ he didn't know why this was affecting him so much. Mark had done it a couple times before, even if he had asked (or pretended to ask, in some cases) beforehand. It was just - stupid. To react like this. 

It was just sex. Everybody loved sex. _Ethan_ loved sex.

Because of course he did. Mark loved it, so by extension, he did too.

And - it was a _nice thing_ , to give your partner a gift. Especially something they can both enjoy. He was doing a nice thing, by letting Mark use him - no, letting Mark _have sex with_ him. It was fine. Couples made sacrifices for each other all the time. Not to mention the fact that he _enjoyed_ it, too, if his body's reaction was anything to go by. So, it wasn't even _really_ a sacrifice - just Ethan being a good boyfriend. 

Even if it made him want to tear his skin off. 

His phone chimed in his back pocket (he had honestly forgotten it was there), and he opened up the text from Mark.

No one else texted him these days. They weren't allowed to. 

The text consisted solely of the simple message _come to mine for round two? ;)_ and Ethan pushed the raging fucking hurricane inside himself down into the tiny hidden compartment of his brain and got off the bathroom floor. 

He was doing something nice for his boyfriend. It was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha don't you Love ~trauma~?


	5. Chapter 5

It had started out innocently enough, honestly. Ethan had no clue it would get as bad as it did.

He had noticed strange looks from Mark, sometimes, when they were filming. Would catch the man staring at his face, throat, chest. On days he was feeling particularly unstable, he would swear that the older man was stealing looks at his ass and crotch. 

But that was stupid. Mark would _never_ \- that was just wrong on so many levels that Ethan couldn't even fathom it. 

And then he started making... comments. Believing he wasn't going crazy came a little easier, then.

"Wow, Ethan, those are short," Mark chided, one day, very obviously staring down at his ass. "Aren't you, like, worried?" 

Suddenly far more self-conscious than before, Ethan tugs at his shorts, pulling them down farther than they really ought to go. They went halfway down his thighs before - certainly not scandalous in his mind, but it was Mark's house. "Worried?" 

"Yeah, man, people are crazy these days. Don't want to give 'em more of a reason than they already have." He glances over Ethan again, eyes trailing over his body like a predator seeking out its prey. "You, especially, should be worried about that." 

Not liking the implications of that, Ethan shifts again, crossing his arms uncomfortably over his stomach. "Give them reason for what?" 

Eyes darting to his shorts again, Mark shrugs and turns away. "I'm sure you know, wearing shorts like that." 

"I'm sixteen," he blurts, eyes widening when he realizes that Mark is implying what he thinks he is. "I'm - Mark, I don't think anyone here is looking at _me_ like -"

Mark cuts him off, voice low and gravelly and dangerous, and Ethan flinches back. "You don't know that. Sixteen is statistically one of the most desirable ages. Evolution and all." His eyes meet Ethan's, and _fuck_ he hates how dark the _adult's_ eyes are. "You don't know how pretty you are, Ethan." 

Suddenly the air feels thick with a tension he's never felt before, and Ethan swallows harshly and stumbles back. "I - I don't think that's appropriate," he mumbles, but it goes unheard as Mark steps towards him. 

"Please, that's the least you'll hear dressing like a whore. Don't wear those shorts again." 

Ethan doesn't. 

The next time it happens he's around other people, thank god. Not that it makes much of a difference. 

He lost some stupid game, so he's getting his eyebrows plucked as punishment. It's simple enough. Except, it _hurts_ \- just a little bit - and he keeps whining in pain. They're small and soft, so quiet he isn't even sure anyone but him and Amy can hear them until Mark speaks up. 

"Stop moaning like that, it's fuckin' weird," he grumbles, all of the jovial tone he uses for videos gone. "Who are you even moaning for?" 

"I'm not mo -" 

"Yes you are. You know you are." Mark comes to the other side of him, and Ethan watches through one squinted eye as the older man glares down at him. "You know what you're doing - cut it out." 

"Mark," Amy placates, "this hurts your first time. I don't think he's -" 

"Yes he is. We get it Ethan, you're a horny teenager - good for you. Now stop acting like a whore." Ethan flinches at the words, and when the tweezers pull at his skin from the action he whines involuntarily. "Jesus fuck." 

Still wincing at the pain despite the muttered "sorry"s from Amy, he peers back up at Mark, frowning uncomfortably. "I'm sorry - I'm really not... really not trying to. It just hurts." 

"You know what will hurt a lot more? The man who decides you're too good to let go." The older man groans at the choruses of "woah"s and "too far"s he gets from the others, and plants a hand on the back of Ethan's chair. He feels a little bit like he's being caged in. 

"Come on," Mark reasons, "I'm just trying to protect him. He's a kid." He looks back down at Ethan, and the younger boy can't kick the suspicion that he's staring at his crotch. "People want him, like it or not." 

No one really knows what to say to that - how to even respond to the sudden change in Mark's demeanor - so they stay silent. It's the final straw for the embarrassment bubbling in Ethan, and he can feel his cheeks flame when Mark moves away, trailing a innocuous hand along his shoulders. 

When Ethan glances over at him, his eyes meet Mark's crotch and he sees a very subtle hard-on - something he's not even sure is real until the older man tugs his shirt down like some of his classmates. 

After a few more of these instances - a subtle comment when he bends down to tie his shoe, a heavy look when he starts whining in pain, a reprimand when he takes his shirt off - it really shouldn't be a surprise when Mark shoes up in Ethan's bedroom in the middle of the night. 

"Wow," Mark hums, to the empty silence of the room. Ethan doesn't think he knows he's awake. He plans on keeping it that way. "You didn't even lock the door. It's like you want someone to come in." 

The door didn't have a lock. It was the only one in the house that didn't. Ethan begins to wonder if that was the reason he was assigned this room while staying over. 

Mark shuffles through the room - Ethan can't see where he's going, as he chose to face the wall so Mark couldn't see the panic in his eyes or the trembling of his chin - and comes to a stop by the foot of the bed. "All alone with the door unlocked. That's not the smartest decision you've ever made." 

Ethan nearly jumps out of his skin when Mark sits next to him - close enough that he's sure the older man can hear his heartbeat. "Do you know how unsafe that is? Anyone could come in here, do anything they wanted." 

He runs a hand over Ethan's back, moving it over his waist to cup his ass and _squeeze_ , and Ethan nearly screams. 

"You're so pretty... You say you aren't all the time but you are. I'd like to show you." 

The words would seem sweet in any other context, and Ethan blearily wonders if this means they're tainted for him forever. 

Eventually, Mark grows tired of just holding his ass, and stands up, shuffling back out the door the way he came. It's the first time Ethan genuinely has to hold back sobs, and put effort into silencing any that escape. 

After that, creepy touches become more common. 

If he's wearing something Mark doesn't like, the older man will pull at the hem, fingers brushing against his stomach, or waist, or inner thigh just a little too deliberately to ignore. Sometimes he'll tug at Ethan's hair just to hear him hiss or whine or groan in pain, and the look in his eyes when he walks away is always too dark, too heavy to be just platonic. 

Ethan's _scared._ He doesn't know how to get him to stop. 

Sometimes Mark goes even farther - calling him creepy-ass nicknames like "baby boy" or "honey" or "kitten" - and playing it off as some fatherly instinct whenever he dares question it. He'll pull Ethan onto his lap occasionally, hands lingering a little too long on his waist. Lengthening hugs at random moments where his hands rest just a _little_ too low on his back to be completely normal. A growing obsession with Ethan's development, asking questions about how his body's changing that he really shouldn't be asking. Giving tips about his nether regions that he really shouldn't be giving. 

The worst part is - Ethan can't even prove any of this. He can't prove his suspicions, even to himself. Because - they're not inherently sexual, right? There could always be another explanation, right? 

Maybe... Maybe he was reading too much into it. 

And then Mark asks him how long his dick is again, and he's right back to thinking all of this is a little too weird to pass off. 

But still - it's not like the older man had touched him. It's not like he's asking for _nudes_ or anything. So does Ethan even have a right to complain? 

He stares at the article Mark sent him - one about how to practice looking good in bed - and rolls over to scream into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey maybe i'm oversharing here but Fuck It. 
> 
> Fuck you, dad. 
> 
> why's it always the gross creepy old men that try to play off their blatantly predatory behavior as "protecting you"??? like hello???? sir YOU are the one i need protecting from you dumb whore  
> finally have an explanation for why my dad seemed lowkey Jealous of my abuser tho B))
> 
> anyway at least i get another chapter out of this aha !!! hope y'all enjoy this i'll probably be updating a little more frequently fhkdg

**Author's Note:**

> ignore me fuzzying up the timeline to make this Even Worse lmao


End file.
